


liquor; it's what my heart's been waiting for

by SLUT



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Behavior, Unbeta'd, implied toxic relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLUT/pseuds/SLUT
Summary: "He just fucked his ex on top of his Barbie mobile in a fairly nice neighborhood. It isn't as funny as it sounds in Yuuri’s head."





	liquor; it's what my heart's been waiting for

Yuuri hadn't been counting, but he’s sure it's been a year and three months since he’s last seen that face. He curses Phichit because he knows, _he just knows_ , he’s the reason why Yuuri and Victor’s eyes are becoming acquainted with each other again, why fear is shooting up his spine, why memories he’d painstaking buried are being ripped from their grave kicking and screaming the whole way up.

They only lock eyes for a millisecond but even that’s too much. Yuuri pushes his way through the crowded room in a panic and slams the door to the nearest bathroom behind him. “You knew, didn't you?” He accuses after Phichit answers his phone on the fourth ring. The damn thing is always in his hand and the fact that he took his time to answer only makes Yuuri more agitated.

“Yuuri? Where are you!?”

“I’m here.” There’s a tremble in his voice, his free hand clenching the denim on his knee.

“Where!?”

“Why didn't you tell me Victor would be here?” Yuuri hisses and resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and just let his phone drop.

“...A-are you and Victor not on speaking terms anymore?”  Phichit curse, it’s faint, like the receiver is being pulled away, and then there’s shuffling before he hears his voice clear as day again. “Yuuri, if I had known I would have never invited him! God, I'm such an idiot!”

His anger expels from his body like a curse broken, easing some anxiety out of his system and lessening the strain in his knitted brows. Well, it’s always nice to know your best friend isn't purposefully being a dick. With his head a little clearer, Yuuri can’t even blame Phichit for being ignorant. He and Victor were always on talking terms no matter how big of an argument they found themselves in.

There was a time when they had played almost every role in each other's lives. Best friend, Lover, Brother, Father. Anything they needed at the time. Who would’ve thought that a little breakup would tear that kind of bond apart?

But here he is now, hiding out in a bathroom like a shark is on the other side of that oakwood door, ready to slaughter him. But not before showing everyone watching his insecurities and faults. No one knew how bad the breakup had been for them and Yuuri planned on keeping it that way.

He finds Phichit in the kitchen a few minutes later, mustering up half-assed greetings to friends he hasn't seen in months along the way. Everyone had alcohol on their breaths; carefree and relaxed and Yuuri thinks he should lower his inhibitions too if he wants to get through the night without shutting himself in a bathroom again.

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s dragging him to a secluded part of the kitchen near a small dining nook, careful of the cup of alcohol now in Yuuri’s hand, before he can even say ‘hi’. “If you want to leave, you can. I won't take it personal, I promise.” He smiles reassuringly, but there's worry plastered all over his face.

“I’m fine.” He lies, unwittingly mirroring Phichit’s expression, and wonders why he doesn't just tell him the truth. But that’s another personal flaw he’d have to tackle with himself another day. “I was just caught off guard.”

That part isn't a lie, his neck still hurts from the whiplash.

“...Was the breakup really that bad?”

“Phichit,” He lets out a sigh that sounds way more exasperated than wanted the other to hear. “I _really_ don’t want to talk about it, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

It’s when he drowns his cup of vodka and coke that the laughter and bustle of the party stop feeling like it was placed there to purposefully _-mockingly-_ contradict with his mood. Yuuri’s not a lightweight and doesn't plan on getting hammered anytime soon. Embarrassing himself isn't something he’d eagerly written on his checklist for tonight this morning, but he’s had enough to push himself out of his own comfort zone. More like shove.

Yuuri turns his head, and attention, away from the group he’s with, eyes scanning the room for Victor and when he finds him, he doesn't run. Even when he’s caught staring.

_Ah, that good ol’ liquid courage._

And, God, he can see those pretty blues even through the slight fog building up on lenses of his glasses from the warmth circulating in the air, even from his spot in the back of the spacious living room. He notices two things in that moment; Victor’s wearing that tight black turtleneck sweater, the one he knows Yuuri loves on him because it accented everything that Yuuri couldn't get enough of; His creamy skin, his long pretty neck, the definition of his chest. And Yuuri knew Victor far too well for this to have been on purpose.

The second thing he notices is that Victor is grabbing his coat and _leaving_.

Panic sets in, the feeling heavier than when they had first locked eyes in the beginning of the night. It’s like deja vu, this feeling; during their time together he hated the thought of Victor slipping through his fingertips. Ironic, since that was the very reason he ended things with Victor in the first place. Yuuri had convinced himself that it was better to let Victor go on his own terms than have the man up and leave Yuuri with his already low-self esteem in shambles and unfixable. Selfish, he knows.

_‘Yuuri, why? Why do you keeping pulling and pushing me away!?’ Victor had asked in near hysteria the night everything went to shit._

He cringes at the memory and then cringes harder when he realizes, he’s doing it again. Yuuri’s rushing after him without a word to Phichit or the others. Were they really going to just ignore each other's existence tonight and then never see each other ever again? It was one thing to send each other nothing but static from miles apart, but it was another to do it while they were both breathing the same air.

He stops dead in his tracks when he gets outside, cool midnight air hitting his face. This image isn't one he’s familiar with but relief washes over him in waves. Victor’s still there. Smoking a cigarette and leaning on the hood of his car. For a second Yuuri wonders why he hadn't noticed the glaringly bright, hot pink thing when he had first pulled up tonight.

“Since when did you start smoking?” He asks tentatively.

Silence, awkward oppressing silence. Against his better judgment, Yuuri steps closer. Closer until they’re only a few inches apart. Yuuri plucks the cigarette from between those pouting lips and grounds it against the cement below with the bottom his sneaker.

They stare the other down for a moment before Victor turns his head with a huff and Yuuri has to suppress a chuckle at how childish he looks and sounds right now.

“When did we switch roles? It's supposed to be me running away and ignoring you, not the other way around.” The amusement in his voice is hollow and artificial. He wants to reach out and touch the places his hands are so familiar with, but he behaves. Swallowing a sob that's threatening to bubble up to the surface the longer Victor ignores him.

“ _Please talk to me_.” He whispers.

“You saw me earlier tonight and ran.” Victor finally says, clearly hurt. “I think our roles are still firmly in place...I'm just not running after you this time.”

Yuuri almost steps back in shame, but he moves forward instead. Something must be in the air tonight. His hands grab at Victor’s sides desperately and his head drops in the man's chest, that sweet cologne almost choking him with old memories.

_The body truly never forgets._

“...I-i thought Phichit was trying to set us back up again and I panicked.” He sucks up the snot threatening to run down his nose, breathes in more of that sweet cologne that gives him an almost heady feeling. “I-I’m sorry, it was never my intention to hurt your feeling. _Ever_.” His voice is muffled and his glasses are no doubt uncomfortable for the both of them, the frames digging into Yuuri's face and Victor's chest, but he hopes to god Victor can hear how sorry he is.

“Then why, Yuuri?”

He doesn't have to ask, Yuuri knows he’s talking about the breakup. “I already told you why.” He says, pulling his face back but leaving his hands to wander seemingly own their own. God, he’s still extremely fit and impossibly beautiful.

Victor sighs, the sound pained, and stops Yuuri’s hands from wandering too far from their starting point. “Yuuri... I have a boyfriend.”

His hands jerk back like a child finding out the burner on the stove is not for touching. He looks into Victor’s eyes, searching for anything besides the truth. He has to be bluffing. Victor used to have a habit of testing him in the beginning of their relationship, and that has to be the reason for those words to ever come out of his mouth now, because he physically couldn't take the thought of another man touching the places that were once his.

He feels sick, utterly _sick_.

“Are you lying to me?”  He whispers the question because he doesn't really want the answer.

“Yuuri,” Victor sounds like he’s scolding a very small child, soft but firm. “I'm free to have a relationship. And so are you.”

“I don't want anyone else but you.”

“...You say that but I'm not the one who ended things.”

Yuuri kisses him, head tilted to the side, full on the mouth and he doesn't pull back until he realizes Victor’s mouth isn't moving along with his.

“You’ve been drinking.” He states to Yuuri, looking like he's on the edge of crying.

“So have you, I taste it on you, _Vitya_.” He can't, all he tastes is tobacco and Yuuri knows he’s playing dirty, but he doesn't give a damn. When he kisses him again, the heat is returned to him ten times over. It’s been so long since his felt that tongue sliding against his own and he lets out a needy moan before grabbing at Victor’s sides again and bringing them closer.

He slips Victor’s coat off his shoulders, the expensive thing hitting the ground as Yuuri runs his mouth along a soft jaw. “Why did you wear this shirt today?” Yuuri growls, grinding his clothed cock against Victor’s thigh.

“You know why.” His breath is shaky and wet and dripping.

The sound almost makes Yuuri weep with need. “Do you have anything?” He asks, searching through Victor’s pockets to find what he’s asking for himself. And sure enough, Victor has a condom on him. Old habits die hard.

“Yuuri, we’re in public.” Victor chides half-heartedly.

“Since when has that ever stopped you?”

The thrill is almost too much, it feels like there’s a physical manifestation of it on his back. Phichit didn't know a lot of people who would be fiending for a smoke break, but it's getting about that time for people to be leaving.

He opens Victor up with the slick from the condom packet, the man bent over his own car with his pants halfway down his long legs, back arched, neck craned, moaning to the moon as Yuuri relentlessly hits his sweet spot in a daze.

And because he’s making all kinds of bad decisions tonight, “I don't want to put the condom on.” He asks, closing his eyes for a moment because he remembers how lovely that hole feels sliding against his dick.

Victor clenches around his fingers and looks back at him with an expression that almost makes him bust in his pants right then and there. He looked scandalous like this, absolutely dirty. Those hooded, heated blue eyes giving him permission even before he says, “Then don’t.”

Yuuri pulls himself out, using his own spit to wet his cock. There’s no time for teasing, but he runs the head of his cock against Victor pretty tight hole before he plunges in. He’s sure he’s leaving marks because he’s never held onto someone so tightly, nails sinking into the flesh of Victor’s skin. God, he hopes he leaves marks.

They try to keep quiet when they cum, but they’re damn near yelling obscenities to each other as they spill.

_“Take it.”_

 

_“Take it.”_

_  
_ _“Take it all of it.”_

 

_“Take every last drop.”_

It’s the only thing running through his brain and dripping from his mouth as he fills Victor up, those velvet walls sending shock wave after shock wave through his system with every pump of his cock.

And it’s only after they look somewhat put back together that Yuuri realizes what the hell happened.

He just fucked his ex on top of the man's Barbie mobile in a fairly nice neighborhood. It isn't as funny as it sounds in Yuuri’s head.

He feels fucking guilty.

“Do something about that boyfriend of yours,” He says, hovering near Victor’s car door as the engine comes to life. He doesn't sound as confident as he wants to let on. “ ...For his sake and mine.”

“You still have my number?”

“Yeah.” He never deleted it no matter how many times he wanted to.

“Then call me.”

And he’s off.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are welcome ♥
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://bottom-viktor.tumblr.com)


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